Farewell to Amusement Parks

Confession: I love my kids and grandkids but cannot keep up with them. 

Cold winter days have become a pleasurable season as I hunker under my quilt and don’t feel any guilt, steeped in a good book or TV series. Summer is jam-packed with physical activities synonymous with heat, ice cream, water, playdays, vacay days, outdoorsy days, and parks – amusement parks, dog parks, water parks, rustic parks, glamping parks. The young enjoy and forge ahead nonstop for the entire season. Older, calmer, slower-moving, inflexible seniors (like me) find summer fun enjoyable, but also challenging, frustrating, uncomfortably hot, and completely, bone-numbingly exhausting. 

My son Jason takes a pilgrimage to the Ocean City (NJ) Boardwalk every summer. One evening Jason, his wife Julie, 7-year-old Lila, and I descended on the 2-1/2 mile Boardwalk, which overflows every night with folks walking, cycling, eating, chatting, fooling around. The cries of tired toddlers punctuate the surprisingly restrained decibel level. The steadily moving throng listens to Boardwalk musicians, mostly young men and women with handmade signs stating “money for college,” or similar phrases in the hope that soft-hearted passersby will toss a bill or two into their collection pot. 

Parking is expensive close to the Boardwalk – $15 – $25 in a lot. Meters are significantly cheaper – from $2 – $5 an hour. My son, a marathoner, doesn’t mind driving around side streets in search of a parking spot, then hiking blocks to the Boardwalk. Julie and Lila trot along while I trail behind, soon panting as I try to keep up and keep them in sight.

Our first stop and an opportunity for a breather: Manco & Manco Pizza. Unfortunately I cannot rest my weary feet because the benches are filled with pizza and ice cream patrons. It doesn’t matter that Grandma is tired, the lines long, my granddaughter impatient, and everyone hungry. This is a fun, once-a-year, must-do happening! 

Julie and Lila wander next door to the air-conditioned salt water taffy, candy, and toy store. Jason and I inch closer to the order counter, and once at the head of the line place our pizza-to-go order, the line for a table too long, and our patience too short. Fifteen minutes after placing the order our name is called, Julie and Lila reappear, we grab an empty bench (after staring down seated but non-eating folks) and devour our dinner.

After dinner we strolled along the Boardwalk, my gang munching peanut butter confections, monkey bread creations, and soft ice cream. I did not snack, knowing I might endure stomach issues the following morning should I indulge.

The henna store was next, Lila excited for a design on her hand. Examining all the options took time, but finally a suitable pattern chosen. The artist worked her magic, then we continued our Boardwalk promenade. 

The crowd increased as the evening progressed.

Lila could not contain her excitement as we approached the amusement park. The Ferris wheel and roller coaster were spotted as we drove into town. This would be the highlight of Lila’s Boardwalk experience.

I was never a Ferris wheel fan, so decided to forego the ride. I settled on a bench while the rest of my crew rode the wheel.

I sat opposite a ride designed to generate anxiety and fright in kids. The attendant straps ten kids into a cushioned seat and sends them whirling up and down. The kids cry, screech, yell – every one of them, in high-pitched, loud voices that pierce my body.

Rides are spaced close together, and paths narrow, intensifying the noise and crowd coziness. Folks wander by – babies in strollers, older siblings, parents, grandparents, teenagers. They talk, they scream, they jump, and they drive me crazy.

As twilight descends, the lights from the rides, games, and food kiosks blink incessantly. The bright colors and pulsing bulbs cause my brain to ache.

My people descend the exit ramp, and Dad decides it’s time to go home. No resistance from me. I wonder if I have enough energy to traipse back to the car and collapse before dropping on the ground, drained, begging for amusement park mercy.

Two generations had a great time on their yearly Boardwalk jaunt. 

When home, my body crumpled into bed. I awoke once during the night to take two extra-strength Tylenol for my splitting headache, and was fine the next morning.

My husband did not join the excursion. I promised to take him for a leisurely stroll on the Boardwalk on a weekday in September when crowds dwindle. We would avoid the amusement park.

I believe my amusement park days are over. In the future I look forward to sending my family off on their own, and upon their return eagerly listen as they regale me with their fun-filled Boardwalk and amusement park experiences.